Taken - Before her very Eyes (21 page)

“Sorry, I thought you were
someone else.” She took a step back toward the side door on the garage and held
her hand on the door knob. “Mind if I take a peek at your vehicle?”

The old man shrugged and tossed
the cat back inside the house when it began nipping at his fingers. “Go ahead.
Nothing to see but my old Buick.” He grinned. “If you like it, I’d be willing
to sell it for a couple grand.”

Summer opened the door an inch
and saw the old white car sitting in the middle of the garage. “Thanks, but
I’ve already got a ride.” She turned and stepped between the house and the
garage. “Sorry about the intrusion. It’s official police business.”

Summer hurried back to the car,
started it and raced back down the street, worried that the old man would pull
out a shotgun, not believing that she was truly a cop and blow some rock salt
in her ass. When she came to the main road, she turned left and raced back down
the opposite direction like the old man had said, wondering just how long it’d
take for the chief to get some cars out there.

“What happened?” Dean said,
scooting up in the seat and staring out into the direction where the dot had
last transmitted from. “Where’s the tracking dot?”

“Here, take the wheel.” Gavin
grabbed the unit from Dean and started adjusting the controls. “It seems to be
working fine. So the question is, what the fuck happened to the transmitter?”

“You think she found it?”

“I still don’t think that’s
possible unless someone tipped her off and she went searching for it. And we’re
the only ones who know about the transmitter, so it can’t be that.”

“Then what else?”

Gavin shrugged and handed the
unit back to Dean. “Maybe she made the drop and the fucking kidnapper found it
in the bag? He’d have reason to be searching for the device.”

“And,” Dean said, suddenly aware
of the consequences of Gavin’s stupidity, “if he found it then he’ll think Summer
placed it there so the cops could track him down and arrest him. He’ll be
pissed right off. Pissed enough at being double crossed to harm them.”

“On second thought, this guy’s a
fucking amateur,” Gavin said, shrugging his shoulders. “He won’t even know what
the fuck to look for. If he was organized, then he’d be able to pick up the
electronic signal coming from the bag, but I doubt he’d be carrying that kind
of fucking technology with him. He appears to be the grunt. Only told enough
information to get him through the day. They wouldn’t trust this guy with a
fucking calculator.”

“Since when are you such an
expert on this kind of thing?”

“What do you think they talk
about in prison? It’s not all fucking licence plates and poems. They talk shop,
and if you’re smart, you fucking listen.”

Dean zoomed in on the map, concentrating
on the location where they’d last seen the blinking dot. He knew they were
heading in the right direction, but with the amount of dirt roads and long
laneways heading to farm houses and barns, there were a million places she
could be. They could drive right past her if she was parked behind a barn or
down in the middle of a farmer’s field.

They continued on in the general
direction for fifteen minutes until Dean heard the wail of an ambulance in the
distance. He turned the radio off and opened his window, listening for the
direction that the siren was coming from. “You hear that?”

Gavin nodded and glanced around,
searching for the location. “It sounds like it’s coming from over in that direction.”

“Turn right at the next road.”
Dean pointed to the stop sign in the distance. “We haven’t found shit wandering
around like this, so let’s hope Summer called the ambulance for the kidnapper.”

Gavin nodded and turned down the
next gravel roadway. It was quite a change from the smooth pavement and Dean
could feel each and every pothole they hit. He propped himself off the seat
with his arm, trying to ease the discomfort in his stomach and thought about
popping another pain pill, but couldn’t risk being tired and unresponsive when
the time came to see Summer and Sabrina. He’d have to suck up the pain and try
to use it to focus his mind.

When they were halfway to the next
concession the ambulance flew past the approaching intersection, racing off
into the countryside. Gavin sped up, flying down the washboard road toward the
awaiting pavement ahead.

Dean bit his lip, trying to keep
from crying out for Gavin to slow down. He knew if he asked, Gavin would obey
and that was the last thing Dean wanted. They needed to stay close to the
ambulance. It was their last shot at finding Summer.

Once the car was securely on the
asphalt, Gavin pushed it to its limit, giving chase down the road. The siren
was all but muted from the distance, but the flashing lights still beckoned
from up ahead.

“Keep on it, Gavin. I’ve seen you
drive faster than this before.”

“I’ve got it to the floor!” Gavin
pounded the steering wheel as the engine revved out of control. “This piece of
shit is harder to get going than an eighty-year-old nun.”

“Come on. Come on!” Dean leaned
forward as they crest the next hill, gazing into the distance, looking for the
ambulance up ahead, but it was gone. Nowhere in sight. “Shit, we’ve lost it!”

“No. Not yet.”

Dean followed Gavin’s gaze. The
ambulance had turned down the next road and was beginning to slow to a stop. It
was turning off the road, pulling onto a small laneway to the side.

Gavin slid the car around the
corner, quickly following the ambulance’s path. It wasn’t until they were
nearly upon the ambulance that they saw the police car in the muddy field, beside
the laneway.

“Must have been a hell of a
fucking ride,” Gavin said, pulling to a stop beside the ambulance.

Dean recognized Nate immediately
and wondered if he’d followed Summer out here, or if it’d been planned from the
start for him to provide the back up. He hoped for the sake of their
relationship, Summer had warned Nate not to follow like she had him.

After carefully climbing from the
car, Dean stood leaning against the door, holding tight to the stitches in his
stomach. He felt the sticky warn liquid on his fingers and knew even before he
looked down that the wound was bleeding. “Damn it! Why can’t this shit just
stop?”

“What the fuck’s wrong?” Gavin
came around the car quickly and the look on his face said everything. “You
really should be back at the fucking hospital.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You look
like you might drop dead at anytime.”

“Can I get a second opinion?”

“Okay, you’re also ugly as fuck.”

Dean shook his head and pushed
off the car, stumbling around the front and avoiding Gavin’s outstretched
hands. “I don’t need any help. It’s just a little blood. Probably from you
hitting every damn pothole down that road.”

“And I wasn’t even trying.” Gavin
smirked as he followed behind. “You just wait until the ride home. I’ll drive
the whole fucking way with two tires on the shoulder.”

“I thought that’s how you
normally drove.”

“You’re hilarious when you’re
bleeding. Too bad you weren’t a fucking woman. At least you’d be fun for four
days a month.”

“See.” Dean stopped at the side
of the lane, watching as the paramedics struggled in the mud to get Nate out of
the car and onto the stretcher. “This is what I miss. Not your smiling face, or
your shiny bald head, but your sick filthy mouth. What happened to you? Ever
since you came to work for me you’ve been nothing like your old self, but now
it comes back with vengeance.”

“I didn’t think you’d want me
talking like that around the office.”

“Not to customers, but it’s okay
around me. This is the Gavin that I remember growing up with. This is the sick
fucker who’d gross me out so much I’d puke my guts out after dinner.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to serve
you again, master.” Gavin took a step into the mud, watching as they placed
Nate onto the stretcher. “Looks like he took a bullet to the chest. Must be up
high or he wouldn’t have survived for this long. The way he’s moving around,
I’d say more in the shoulder area.”

“Lucky bastard,” Dean said. “I
just hope it wasn’t Summer who’d shot him.”

“Dean,” Nate said as the
paramedics trudged through the thick mud, dragging the stretcher closer to the
laneway. “Summer’s gone after him.”

“Which way?” Dean felt the surge
of adrenaline coursing through his veins just knowing that Summer was still on
the move, getting closer to the kidnapper and Sabrina.

“Down toward the lake.” Nate drew
a sharp breath as the stretcher bounced when they set it down on the laneway.
“He’s driving a late model brown Silverado.”

Dean turned and started back toward
the car.

“And we’ve m—matched his prints
from the car keys.”

Dean stopped dead in his tracks.
He knew if they had a match of the kidnapper’s prints, then they’d also have a
name for the bastard who’d stabbed him and sent his world careening out of control.
And to have that name would make the kidnapper seem less powerful and more
human.

“His name’s Percy Campbell and he
has some property down at the lake front. Inherited it from a grandmother,
years ago. 4479 on the Talbot Trail.” Nate sat up on the stretcher against the
protesting hands of the paramedics. “Summer’s g—gone there after him.” Nate
paused “Dean, he’s got a rifle—and he’s a pretty good s—shot from a long
distance.”

“You’re a lucky man, Officer
Long,” the paramedic said. “A few inches to the side and we wouldn’t be having
this conversation.”

Nate glared over at the young
paramedic. “Ain’t I lucky? Now, hold your tongue and give me a shot for the
pain.”

The paramedic took a step back
from the stretcher, out of Nate’s reach. “You just earned yourself a double
shot of morphine.”

Dean rounded the car, holding the
fender as he went. “Which way did she go?”

Nate pointed behind the barn.
“Down there, then right on the next concession. B—but she beat the hell out of
my car going down there, so you’d better think about sticking to the main
roads.” Nate glanced at the bloodstain on Dean’s shirt. “I’m guessing the bumps
make you almost shit yourself.”

“Something like that.” Dean
slowly slid back into the reclined seat and fought to close the door before
Gavin backed out of the laneway. They followed Nate’s directions down the road
to the next corner, then turned left.

Dean lifted his hand and stared
at his blood covered palm. “Nate looks like he should be all right.”

Gavin glanced over at Dean’s
shirt. “Better than you.”

“Percy Campbell,” Summer muttered.
How could someone named Percy commit such terrible crimes? It just went against
all the laws of logic. Percy was the name of a computer programmer, or an
accountant. Not a kidnapper who’d tried to kill Dean and Nate.

Right now Summer wished she’d
grabbed a cruiser instead of Nate’s car. At least then she’d be able to pull up
a photo of Percy on the computer and be able to recognize him if he drove by.

Summer continued on past the
intersection, which she’d turned onto this road, and cursed at her decision to
head east down to the old man’s shack. It was a fifty-fifty chance and she’d
come up empty. Nothing seemed to be going right today. Everything seemed to be
falling apart, except for the prints from the keys. She couldn’t believe it
actually worked. She’d only read about the technique last month while flipping
through a magazine, but it’d paid off big time. They had a name and hopefully
Percy’s hideout.

When Nate mentioned that Percy
had done time up at Fenbrook, her mind was so caught up in finding Sabrina that
it never really sunk in.

Fenbrook? That’s where Gavin did
his time. She knew the prison was huge, but she couldn’t stop wondering if
Gavin and Percy had known each other during their stay. If only she wasn’t in
such a rush to catch this bastard, she’d pull in Gavin and beat the truth out
of him.

The road continued to climb
higher with each mile she drove, as the trees thinned until she could see nothing
but water down below the cliff. A few cars approached on the highway and Summer
scanned the drivers and strained to see inside, wondering if Sabrina was hidden
in the back.

Percy could’ve switched back to
his first vehicle that he had stashed at the farm—the one they have a tire
print from. It would only make sense, especially after she and Nate had both
seen the truck. But that would mean Percy was on the run. No, he would’ve gone
back to his hideout to lay low for a few days. But where on earth could he hope
to go? The borders were all clamped down, looking for anybody with a child. So
what was he going to do, sit and wait it out?

Summer glanced at the phone
tucked beside her leg. Why hadn’t he called yet? Why not take a chance and get
the money he so desperately needed to get away from… from who?

“4479?” Summer said, wishing she
had something to jot the number down on because she didn’t trust her memory to
keep it straight. She could easily mix up the digits and end up looking in the
wrong area, potentially putting more people in danger.

She checked the number on the
next mailbox as she soared past. 4563. At least she was heading in the right
direction now. She was getting closer to Sabrina, she could feel it.

Summer glanced at the pistol on
the seat beside. There was no way she could put it in her ankle holster for
fear that Percy would be waiting to greet her when she arrived.

Just the thought of the gun gave
her the boost she needed, and she had Nate to thank. Without him risking his
job to retrieve the gun, she’d be walking into Percy’s hideout like a lamb to
the slaughter, begging him to take the money and release Sabrina.